Food & Culture

There is a particular kind of tradition that does not end with a decree or a ban, but simply with nobody left willing to learn it. The black salt of Sacapulas, in the highlands of Guatemala's Quiché department, is close to that kind of ending, and it is worth understanding what will be lost, and why it mattered in the first place, before it becomes a subject only for archaeologists. Sacapulas sits in the dry canyon of the Chixoy River, known locally as the Rio Negro, where th

There is a particular smell that announces itself before the dish does: something sour, faintly smoked, closer to leather than to citrus. It belongs to loomi, the dried black lime that has quietly seasoned the cooking of the Gulf, Iraq, and Iran for centuries, and that Western kitchens are only now learning to pronounce. The transformation begins with an ordinary lime, boiled briefly in salt water, then left in the sun for weeks until the skin blackens and the interior shrink

When you think of the Iberian Peninsula, vivid images come to mind: sun-drenched hills, stone villages clinging to the edges of cliffs, and tables set with wine, bread, and shimmering pools of golden olive oil. While jamón, cheese, and seafood often steal the culinary spotlight, it’s olive oil—humble, ancient, and endlessly versatile—that quietly anchors the cuisine of both Spain and Portugal. Together, these two countries produce nearly half of the world’s olive oil. Spain i

It happened quietly — as true markers of cultural shift often do. In London, within the intimate architecture of private collections, a bottle of mezcal was acquired for a five-figure sum. Not in a theatrical auction hall, but through a discreet exchange grounded in trust, taste, and the invisible handshakes of the world’s rare spirits community. It was bottle number two of six from Santo de Piedra’s Pastorale series x Massimo Bottura. The collector, aligned with a life lived

Longquan appears on the map of China as a discreet dot between mountains and rivers, yet it is, in truth, a state of mind — a place where clay learns to become jade without ever ceasing to be earth. For a thousand years, the kiln-dragons climbing the hillsides have breathed a slow, contemplative fire, transforming raw matter with the same patience with which the landscape allows itself to be carved by time. Inside those vaulted tunnels, fuelled by wood and rhythm rather than